


Four Stages of World Cup Grief

by Anonymous



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After England loses, comfort is needed.





	1. Denial

Heath's not terribly interested in the World Cup. All he knows is that because of it, Wade had scheduled his latest trip home around it. Which is fine, Heath would never begrudge him his time back in England, but he still misses him. Nightly video messages just aren't enough. He sighs and casts a glance down at Boodah, shaking his head. "I know, I'm ridiculous, huh, boy?" he mumbles, scritching between the dog's ears. The game is background noise, Heath only focused on it whenever the score changes.  
  
The only reason he's invested is because of Wade, and still, it leaves him a little disappointed when the game ends with England losing. He shoots off a quick text to Wade: I'm sorry, Wade. Maybe next time, yeah? He doesn't get a response, he wasn't expecting one. Wade tweets once about it and then moves on to advertising his movies and other things. Still, Heath looks at the calendar, counting the days until Wade comes home to him, and plans, trying to think of a way to help Wade feel better.  
  
It all comes together pretty well, considering, by the time Wade flies back in to Florida. Shopping, and baking, and putting together their apartment to look as warm and welcoming as can be. After setting the table, Heath is sitting on the floor, playing with one of the cats. He's quickly distracted when he hears Wade's car outside, and then the door slamming shut to announce his entrance into the apartment. Beaming, he gets up and walks out to join him. "Hey, Wade," he says, eyes gleaming when Wade's face lights up upon seeing him. "I missed ya."  
  
"Missed you too," he says, dropping his luggage and walking over Boodah's excited wiggling to get to Heath. He grips Heath's jaw and kisses him, slow and lingering before pulling away, nose crinkling. "What is that I'm smelling?"  
  
Heath chuckles a bit and grips his hands. "C'mon." He leads him into the kitchen and, as Wade watches, leans over to pull something out of the stove. "I tried my hand at some British stuff," he says. "I figured you'd be starvin' after your flight. I'm not sure how it turned out, you let me know if it's a hit or a miss." He lays the dish down and watches as Wade examines it. "It's supposed to be... a pork cassoulet?" he says, not even sure if he's pronouncing it correctly. "I thought maybe some homecooking would cheer you up a little."   
  
Wade looks up at him and smiles, the first time he's really had a reason to after the sharp disappointment of England's loss. "Well, it smells incredible. Let's see how it tastes. I'm starving."  
  
Heath grins. "Yeah?" He picks Wade's plate up from the table and a serving knife and cuts into it, both of them pausing as steam wafts up, bringing with it a meaty smell. "Well, that looks ok," he mumbles, piling some on Wade's plate. They sit and Heath waits as patiently as he can, trying not to twitch as Wade scoops up some of the mixture on his fork and puts it in his mouth.   
  
Their eyes lock and Wade nods, swallowing the warm meat and vegetables down. "You're sure this is the first time you've made this?" he asks with a faint laugh. "It tastes like what I used to eat as a kid." Heath's shoulders relax as Wade takes another bite. "Damn good for your first time making it."  
  
Heath finally takes a bite himself and nods, finding it to be satisfactory. "I also made dessert," he shares after they've eaten in silence for a few minutes. "A summer pudding? I think it came out pretty good too."  
  
"I'm sure it's fine," Wade says. "But maybe... a breather after we finish this," he suggests, a certain look on his face that Heath is very familiar with.  
  
"Oh, sure," he says, blinking slowly. "That's fine." They finish eating and Heath puts away the leftovers before joining Wade at the sink to do the dishes, the two of them content in each other's presence as they wipe off plates and silverware, drying them off and putting them away.   
  
As soon as they're finished, Wade turns and grips Heath's hand, drawing him out of the kitchen. He shoos the kittens out of the bedroom and firmly shuts the door on Boodah before turning to look at him, smile turning a little dirty as they stare at each other. "So," he says quietly. "Before we get to dessert, I figured you deserve a little treat yourself... for taking such care in making such a thoughtful dinner."  
  
Heath hovers by the bed and laughs a little, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah? I mean, ya know, I was happy to do it, ya don't really need to repay me--"  
  
"But I want to," Wade tells him, walking forward and resting a hand on the small of Heath's back. "I missed you, I missed us." He sighs. "Besides, I ignored your text and I shouldn't have done that. I just didn't want to face the loss right away."  
  
"I get that," Heath shrugs. "It's ok, I wasn't offended or anythin'. I knew you were dealin' with it in your own way when I saw your tweets." He watches as Wade's smile softens a little, his touch ghosting up his spine before he grips Heath's neck and draws him in for a slow, lazy kiss. "Mmm," he sighs into it, leaning into Wade. "Damn, I really missed ya," he mumbles.  
  
Wade nods, slowly slipping his other hand under Heath's shirt, brushing against his stomach, making his abs twitch. "I'll make it up to you," he promises, Heath blinking as his shorts drop down to his ankles and Wade laughs against his mouth while he eases his shirt up and off as well, leaving Heath in boxers and socks and not much else.   
  
Heath huffs, spreading his arms out in a kind of shrug before twisting his fingers in the folds of Wade's shirt, pulling it up over his head as well. "That's more like it," he mumbles, leaning in to press a quick kiss between Wade's pecs before unzipping his jeans. He doesn't go for the button just barely holding it all together right away, teasing by pressing his fingers into the gap of Wade's jeans, rubbing slow circles against his boxers and listening as Wade's breathing turns rough, Heath laughing softly as he feels him beginning to harden, straining against the denim. "Well, I guess ya really did miss me," he says, satisfaction in his words as he finally pops the button and slides Wade's jeans off of his hips, watching them slide down until they're pooling on the floor, Wade impatiently kicking them off. He hums, slowly dropping to his knees, and looks up at Wade with a smirk, gripping his hips and pulling him closer.   
  
"Heath," Wade warns, voice shaky and wrecked already, his body tense as he throbs needily, hardening even more when Heath blows air over his thighs. He groans, rocking forward as Heath mouths at his boxers, teasing his half-hard flesh with swipes of his tongue and subtle scrapes of his teeth against the fabric until he's writhing and moaning, struggling just to remain standing. He feels hot, sweaty and somewhat dizzy as Heath slowly tugs his boxers down, finally allowing direct contact as he presses his tongue against his hot, twitching skin, peering up at him with quirked eyebrows. "Don't look at me like that," he forces out, tangling his fingers in Heath's short hair. "Ah bloody--" He chokes out a short gasp of a cry as Heath takes all of him into his mouth, his tongue working magic already, sensations overwhelming Wade as he bites his lips against more moans.  
  
Heath rolls his eyes and pinches his hip, glaring at him until he lets go, moaning out Heath's name so loudly that Heath thinks the beach down the street could probably hear it. Appeased, he sets back to work eagerly, feeling Wade tense as the sensations grow, his fingers trembling as he tugs at Heath's hair, a not entirely unpleasant pressure against his scalp as he licks and mouths at Wade, feeling him twitch a few times, moaning and mumbling while he struggles not to choke Heath. "Go 'head," he mumbles, nosing at Wade as he shudders out a gasp and starts thrusting into Heath's slick warm mouth, barely holding on long enough for three quick jerks of his hips before he's gone, climaxing so hard that Heath has to work to swallow it all down, his breathing still ragged and sharp when Heath eases off after licking him clean.   
  
He only just remembers to relax his grip on Heath's hair as he moves away and then groans, sinking onto the edge of the bed, his legs barely able to hold him up as he melts into the afterglow of his orgasm. Takes him a few moments before he looks up and finds Heath watching with a small smile. "Get over here," he says, holding his hands out to him. Heath takes them and straddles Wade's lap, grinning when Wade runs his hands up and down his back. "As fantastic as that was," he says, kissing Heath quickly, "something was missing."  
  
Heath looks confused, trying to remember what exactly he might have forgotten to do, when Wade grips him and shifts so he's resting on his thigh, pressing his leg up into Heath's crotch. "Oh," he mumbles, flushing darkly as he closes his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't thinkin' about that..."   
  
"Well, that's why you have me," Wade says fondly, gripping Heath's hips and slowly moving him back and forth, guiding him as he ruts against Wade's thigh.   
  
"Ah, God," he mumbles. "Yeah, I gotcha. Always'n'forever..." He moans, pleasure starting to curl his toes, his heart racing with the force of it. "Wade--" His warnings are muffled when Wade kisses him, matching the grinding of his hips against his thigh as he sweeps his tongue around Heath's mouth, Heath moaning into the kiss as he digs his fingers into Wade's neck, so close to losing it that he can't see straight. When he finally gives in to his body's needs, Wade supports him with a small laugh, watching the intense pleasure on his face as he gasps and shudders through the orgasm, melting into Wade once his muscles unclench and he relaxes. "Holy shit..."  
  
Wade chuckles, pressing soft kisses against his jaw as he adjusts them, settling Heath down on the bed properly and hovering over him as he stares blankly at the ceiling, still flooded with all kinds of good sensations and blissful tingling along his body. "I love you," he tells him once he thinks Heath is kind of aware of his surroundings again.  
  
Heath laughs breathlessly and turns his head towards him, eyes still a little glassy. "Love you too," he mumbles, sighing when Wade rests against him, kissing his mouth softly. "Gimme a minute and I'll get the pudding once I can feel my legs again..."  
  
Wade laughs and shakes his head. "I'll get it in a minute," he says, easing Heath closer. "Thank you. This was the best welcome home I could've imagined." Heath's fingers are still trembling as he cups Wade's face and draws him in for another kiss, the two of them closing their eyes while they rest, foreheads pressed together. "I think we should make it a regular thing," he says after a few moments.  
  
"Mindblowing afternoon sex?" Heath cracks, watching the small grin grow across Wade's face.  
  
"That too," he says. "But no, cooking British food together. I would like that, especially since you seem to have a knack for it."  
  
Heath smiles, tucking his face into Wade's neck. "Yeah, I'd like that too," he murmurs. "Let's make it a thing whenever our days off match up."   
  
"Sounds good," Wade sighs, sensing that the pudding is going to have to wait as the warmth and lingering effects of the last hour leaves them dozy and too comfortable to move, both drifting in each other's arms.  
  
He decides it's ok, pressing a quick kiss to Heath's forehead, seeing that he's already asleep before allowing his eyes to slip closed, sleep claiming him in a rush as well. They have all the time in the world, after all.


	2. Anger

It's sudden, the bark of anger from the living room. TJ's head shoots up and he frowns, quickly scanning his twitter timeline once more. England loses to Croatia... "Oh," he mumbles, understanding. He gives it a few moments before slowly pulling himself up from where he'd been sprawled on the bed and pads down the hall to peek in at Neville. He's glowering at the TV, jaw working, and TJ shakes his head. Turns into the kitchen and grabs a beer for Neville and a soda for himself, joining him. "Here," he says softly, tapping the beer against Neville's knuckles until he takes it.  
  
Neville takes a long pull from the bottle and casts a dark glance over at him. "You probably should've stayed in your room." His emotions have been all over the place since everything fell apart with WWE, mostly running the gamut between anger, sadness, depression and feeling utterly worthless without being able to do the one thing he loves the most in the world.   
  
Because of this, TJ locks eyes with him and shakes his head slowly. "I'm where I want to be." He watches as Neville works his jaw, knuckles white against his bottle. "Nev, come on. Let it out, man. This isn't healthy." Things have been tense, difficult for both of them, since October, and TJ takes his chances, reaches out to touch Neville. "Neville, please." He's pleasantly surprised when Neville doesn't snap at the gentle brush of fingers against his shoulder. "I miss you," he admits, the words surprising even himself as Neville stares at him. "I know things suck, but I'm here for you. Whether you want to talk about WWE, or about football, or... anything. I want to help you."  
  
Neville swallows, hard, then gulps down the rest of his beer before turning to TJ. "Talking won't help with any of it. I just... I can't."   
  
He gets up and leaves the room, TJ watching with a twisted frown on his face. "Oh screw that," he mumbles, getting up and following him. He's just fast enough to reach Neville before he can disappear into his bedroom again, grabbing his arm. "Look, I let you move in here because we... we were both going through a rough time, and it was fine for awhile, but I..." He exhales. "I need more, I want more. I deserve more." It's now, holding onto him, that TJ realizes just how much muscle mass Neville has lost in the last few months. "Nev, please."  
  
"Stop calling me that," Neville says tensely. "And let go of me."  
  
"No," TJ insists. "You can't keep hiding from everything. This isn't good for anyone, Neville--"  
  
"What do you know about what's good for me?" he asks, laughing bitterly as he smacks TJ's hand off of him. "Mind your own business!"  
  
TJ hisses, then grabs him again. It happens quickly-- despite Neville's thinner form, he's still strong, and slams TJ hard into the wall, fire in his eyes that has been mostly missing since he'd lost his title and left WWE last fall. TJ stares at him, chest rising and falling as he fights against the strange rush of anger and arousal that being around Neville always brings him. "I just want to help you," he mumbles.  
  
"You can't help me, why haven't you figured that out yet?!" Neville all but screams in his face and they both freeze, staring at each other, when TJ makes the first move. Grips his face and kisses him hard, holding on as long as he dares.  
  
"I don't care," he tells him harshly. "We were building something before it all went to hell and I... I want to get that back, dammit. It hurts to see you so diminished and... unlike yourself." He exhales roughly. "This is the first time I've seen any kind of emotion in your eyes in ages and if I have to poke and prod you, push you to hate me, then that's what I'll do. At least you hating me is more than you feeling nothing for no one."  
  
Neville stands, motionless, for a few moments, before his shoulders slump. "I don't hate you," he finally forces out. "I hate this situation. I hate that you still get to wrestle while I'm stuck here with these damn pigs, doing nothing but twiddling my thumbs until WWE decides to let me go... I hate that England came so close and then failed. I hate myself for not being enough, for not... for not fighting harder, for..."   
  
TJ shuts him up with another kiss, running his fingers through Neville's messy hair. "You're more than enough," he breathes, pressing his forehead to Neville's. "Maybe not for WWE, but you've always been enough for me. I hate that you won't just believe that..." Neville stares at him for long, quiet moments, before slipping his hands down TJ's arms, interlacing their fingers before pulling his arms up over his head, pinning them to the wall. "Nev--" He gasps as Neville presses against him, kissing him hard.  
  
Words are forgotten in the sudden scramble, TJ's hands released as his clothes disappear in a dizzying array of colors and fabric, Neville quickly kicking his own pants and boxers off with jerky, impatient movements, and pulling his tweed shirt over his head as well before pressing back against TJ, a solid line of warmth bracing him against the wall. Neville's eyes are dark, piercing, and TJ fights to breathe as he kisses him with rough, quick swipes of his tongue, fingers pressing into his sides hard enough to bruise. It's clear he's going to get what he wants, one way or another, and he moans hard as Neville bites his lip, gauging how vocal he's going to be during this. It doesn't dissuade him as he grips TJ through his boxers with one hand and presses fingers of his other into TJ with no forewarning or prep. TJ cries out and rocks forward before pressing back, Neville sinking further into him as he stretches him quickly.  
  
"You wanted this," Neville reminds him with something lingering in his eyes that makes TJ nod sharply, a moan punched out of him when Neville all but tears his underwear away as he hoists him up and pulls his fingers out just to fill him with one, sharp thrust. It stings and burns in all of the right ways and Neville doesn't even say a word when TJ bites his shoulder, scrambling for something to hold onto as Neville finds a quick, brutal rhythm, TJ realizing that he's enjoying the painful pleasure on some level because it's the most attention Neville's paid him since he returned to WWE in January. Neville's breathing roughly into his ear, TJ marveling at how slick and sticky things are becoming, and he shifts, wrapping his legs around Neville's waist as the pounding thrusts in and out of him continue, leaving him gasping and rocking up to meet Neville, the change in position making it all more heady, intimate. Not an inch remains between them as sweat and precome mixes between their bodies while Neville struggles to keep this rhythm up, his thighs trembling as he comes with the same intensity that he'd been kissing and thrusting with.  
  
TJ is still pinned against the wall as Neville slowly slips out of him, still hard, still trembling, still emotional. He realizes he's crying, brushing futilely at his eyes while Neville slumps to the floor and catches his breath slowly, TJ dropping down with him because they're still pressed together. He doesn't say anything, just waits until Neville looks up and realizes that TJ had slumped down with him. "Nev--" He quiets when Neville lightly brushes the tears off of his cheeks and then glances down.  
  
"I don't know why you still bother with me, Teddy," Neville says with a bemused kind of pain in his voice. "I've done all I can to push you away, but you still... you still want me around, you still allow me to be so cruel to you. And yet you're still attracted to me. It makes no sense." He sighs and pulls TJ closer, running his fingers through his hair. "You still want this?"  
  
"Yes," TJ says, gritting his teeth against the emotional pain of Neville looking at him like that. "I will always want you, Neville..."   
  
Neville shakes his head softly before helping TJ to unhook his legs from around his waist, shifting their positions until he's hovering over TJ. "Well, then, do as you will." And he sinks down, taking TJ in as far as he can, gasping against the unexpected stretch and pain.   
  
TJ chokes and gapes at him as he's engulfed by tight heat, shaking his head in shock. "Nev--" Neville grits his teeth and starts to move, riding TJ slowly, almost lovingly as he leans in and kisses him, soothing the bite marks on his lip with soft licks. TJ moans, finally getting with the program as he rolls his hips up to meet Neville eagerly, his fingers tense against Neville's back while he fights the growing wave of pleasure about to take him over, bring this to a finish too quickly for TJ's liking. "Please," he groans, arching his hips up before he orgasms, Neville sighing at the feeling of it so deep inside of him.  
  
"Damn," he mumbles. TJ nods tiredly, brushing his fingers through Neville's hair, smiling weakly when Neville moves to hover over his face, lightly brushing his fingers over his jaw, down his chest. "You were right," he says. "We were close to something major before I wrecked it all. And I've been trying to destroy whatever remained of it for a very long time, but you stayed by my side, and loved me anyway, didn't you?"  
  
There are those damnable tears again, TJ sniffing quietly, before nodding. "Yeah. I did," he says. "I do. It's why I've never given up on you, why I've let you stay here for so long." He laughs at himself. "What can I say? I was yours from the moment you told me you respected me backstage last April." Such a long time, TJ thinks, seeing the shock in Neville's eyes. "I'm pathetic, I know."  
  
"Not pathetic," Neville refutes this, leaning in to kiss him. "Just loyal and steadfast, more than I've ever deserved with how I've treated you, then and now." Neville leans in and kisses his jaw up to his ear before whispering, "I love you too, Teddy. I'm just in a very dark place that makes it impossible to show it properly most times and you deserve so much better."  
  
"I deserve what I want, and I want you," TJ tells him. "Moods and all. I knew what I was getting into with this, you've always been a cranky, surly sort of bastard." He rubs his feet up Neville's thighs and smiles through the tears when Neville shrugs, unable to be offended at the truth. "Can we give this whole thing another try?"  
  
Neville sighs and closes his eyes, kissing TJ again, soft and patient. Pulling away, he nods. "Yes, I think we can," he murmurs. "I just thought... you couldn't possibly feel that way about me still. I don't deserve you."  
  
"I disagree," TJ hums. "Now," he says, realizing exactly where they're at, "what do you say we get out of this hallway and go somewhere a bit more comfortable?"  
  
Neville laughs, the first time TJ's heard him do so in a very, very long time, and stands up before reaching down to take TJ's hand and pull him up too. "Yes, let's," he says, directing TJ to stand in front of him. "This won't be anywhere close to perfect, I still have a lot to work through, but I promise... I promise I will try to be better for you."  
  
TJ smiles, grips Neville's hands and peppers his palms with kisses. "That's all I can ask for," he says quietly, leaning into Neville's warmth.


	3. Depression

The wretched look on Spud's face is sharp. He looks legitimately crushed by England's loss and Ethan stares at him from a few feet away, remembering the only other time he looked anything like that-- when Ethan had turned on him, had nearly wrecked everything between them. It propels him to his feet, ignoring everyone around them as he walks up behind Spud and wraps his arms snugly around him, hugging him tightly. Spud leans into his warmth, clinging to the England banner with one hand and his arm with the other, and Ethan glances around the bar as if daring anyone to say anything, but people either are too busy focusing on the screens overhead or responding to the loss in their own ways to pay much attention to them, so Ethan relaxes and presses a soft kiss to the back of Spud's neck. "Wanna get out of here, tiger?" he mumbles.  
  
"Yes, please, sir," he breathes, waiting patiently while Ethan pays their tabs and then guides him out of the bar. The drive home is silent, Spud staring out of the windshield with nothing said. Ethan glances at him the entire way, and even more as they walk into the house that they've lived in since joining WWE. Spud swallows when Ethan wraps his arms around him as soon as they're inside, stroking his fingers through his hair. "Sir..."  
  
"Shhhh," he says soothingly, walking Spud backwards through the hall to their bedroom. "Let me make it better?" In ways he should have all of those years ago, letting go of his faulty vendetta after his aunt's injury. A situation that he will always regret now. "Please?"  
  
Spud shrugs, looking up at him. "What are you thinking, sir?"   
  
Ethan smirks. Continues guiding Spud to the bed, quirking an eyebrow at him. "You can guess? Maybe?" Spud exhales as Ethan leans in and kisses him, but just as Spud is expecting Ethan to ease him down onto the bed, Ethan turns them around and drops back on the bed, looking up at Spud with a daring kind of expression on his face. "Well, Tiger? Get over here."  
  
Spud swallows and shakes his head. "Sir... What are you doing?"   
  
"We've discussed it before, Spud," he says. "I want you to know how it is to be in control. I want you on top of me. I want you inside of me. Please."  
  
"I'm... I'm too small, sir, it won't... I can't kiss you easily, and it'll just... it might not be satisfying for you."  
  
Ethan shakes his head. "Spud," he says patiently. "It's you. It'll always be satisfying for me. At least try? Please?"   
  
Spud bites his lip, staring at his former employer. "Fine," he sighs. "But if it's not enough... if you need more, you have to tell me. Ok?" Ethan nods and Spud slowly climbs up the bed until they're face to face. They stare at each other, Spud struggling to smile. "I don't know, but if it's what you want," he murmurs, cupping Ethan's face and leaning in to kiss him. Slow, soft glides of his mouth against Ethan's, until he parts his lips and licks Ethan, groaning when Ethan opens up below him, Spud flushing as Ethan presses his hand to the back of his head, holding him close. "Sir," he moans, pressing warm, wet kisses down his jaw, along the column of his throat.   
  
Ethan sighs and leans back against the pillow, watching as Spud unbuttons his shirt and sitting up just enough for Spud to take it off of him, tossing it aside. He then works his way down Ethan's pecs, kissing and stroking him as Ethan trembles and breathes in and out sharply, already hard but trying to be patient while Spud moves down and traces his abs with his tongue. "Holy shit, Spud," he mumbles, digging his feet into the sheets. "You're killing me here." He can feel Spud smiling against his stomach as he traces the top of his jeans with his fingers, slowly unbuttoning it and pulling the zipper down. Ethan helps him by toeing his shoes off and then arching up so Spud can pull the pants down his hips easier.   
  
Spud takes a deep breath, staring down at Ethan's body and swallows, looking up at him. "You're sure?"  
  
"Totally," Ethan encourages him with a crook of his finger. "Come on, James. If you only know what your mouth just did to me, you wouldn't ever doubt yourself."  
  
Spud closes his eyes and, after finding the lube in the bedside table, slowly undresses, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor before he moves back up onto the bed. He sits on Ethan's thighs and works his thumbs into the muscles there, watching as Ethan's mouth goes slack, his fingers mere inches from Ethan's briefs. "Then I suppose we should go ahead, sir," he says, moving to the side and nudging Ethan until he arches up, allowing Spud to remove his last article of clothing, Spud's quickly following it. Ethan moans as Spud settles back down, slowly rutting against him, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of their slick flesh gliding together. Trying to take himself out of his own head, Spud rests his hand on Ethan's abs and slowly positions himself between Ethan's legs, dripping a generous amount of lube over Ethan and himself, rubbing it between his fingers before pressing in, watching Ethan's face as he tries to help him relax and stretch, easing the burn slowly. "SIr?"  
  
"I'm fine, I'm great, I love when you touch me," Ethan breathes. "Just... please..." Spud pulls out and then sinks back in with two, stretching his fingers out as far as he can as Ethan trembles and twitches beneath him. He leans in and kisses his chest, distracting him as he thrusts in and out of him, working him open carefully, following Ethan's example from all of the time and care that Ethan has taken in prepping him pretty much every time. "Spud, I'm ready... I swear," Ethan groans. "If I don't feel you inside of me soon--"  
  
Spud closes his eyes. Eases his fingers out and goes for the lube again, trembling as he pours even more over himself, stroking himself quickly and shivering against the rush of pleasure at even that bit of friction. He looks up at Ethan and breathes out, "Here we go, sir." He positions himself and slowly rolls his hips, thrusting into Ethan shallowly. Ethan breathes heavily and Spud watches with a frown, waiting for him to get used to the sensation of Spud inside of him, hoping that the pain will ease soon.   
  
Spud takes his hand and squeezes it, fighting his body's natural urge to move, when Ethan relaxes, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. "Move," he tells him. "Move, move--" He continues chanting it until Spud pulls out and then thrusts back in, deeper, at a slightly different angle, Ethan hitting his head back against the pillows with a sharp moan. "Oh God-- oh my God--" Spud repeats the motion, watching Ethan's face closely, as he moans and twitches, his expression somewhere between pain and pleasure.  
  
"Sir," he says doubtfully, not sure if this is going to get any better for Ethan, watching as he arches up just as Spud thrusts into him again. "Sir, talk to me--"  
  
"Don't you dare stop," he grits out, flushed and sweaty. "Feels so intense, but I... I'll get used to it-- just keep moving..." So Spud reluctantly rolls out and rocks back in a couple more times, deeper, more confident, he still watches Ethan's face until finally he shudders and then relaxes under Spud's hand, blinking slowly. "What was that?" he mumbles, Spud laughing, recognized the dazed look of sharp pleasure in his eye. "Was that...?" He gasps and moans as Spud repeats the motion, hitting his deepest nerve endings and causing him to sink into the sudden wave of pleasure. "Holy crap, no wonder you came so quickly the first time we did this... I'm not, it's gonna--"   
  
Spud ducks his head and began thrusting with more certainty, bracing himself with one hand and stroking Ethan with the other. As he feels Ethan tensing up beneath him, the sound of his moans and pleas of Spud's name encouraging him on, he ignores his own body's needs, determined to see Ethan through this first. "Let go," he whispers. "Let go, sir. Come on." Ethan jerks up into his hand, streaking it liberally with the proof of Spud's efforts. Spud struggles to keep an eye on him as he thrusts a few more times into his own release, moaning sharply. As soon as he can, he pulls out and drops to the side, well aware of how sensitive Ethan gets, barely able to tolerate any touch immediately afterwards.  
  
He breathes against the sheets until Ethan touches him, running his fingers through his hair. Spud chuckles and slowly climbs up his side, pressing into his shoulder. "Hullo, sir."  
  
"Hello." He massages Spud's back and kisses his nose. "I told you not to doubt yourself. That was... ridiculous."  
  
"I know. Next time, sir, I'll believe you," Spud promises, his eyes closed as he melts under Ethan's fingers.  
  
"The more important thing is, though..." Ethan smiles down at him. "Do you feel better now?"  
  
"Yes," Spud agrees. "I still hate that England lost, but..." He sits up and kisses Ethan. "You knew exactly what I needed."  
  
Ethan smirks. "I told you," he singsongs as Spud rolls his eyes fondly, swatting at him. Relaxing, Ethan tugs him back down and hugs him close. "I'm already looking forward to the next time."  
  
Spud shakes his head with a sleepy kind of laugh. "You're insatiable, sir."  
  
"Damn straight," Ethan chuckles, tapping his lip with his finger before gently wrapping his arm around Spud, watching him doze off with a fond smile.


	4. Acceptance

Brian doesn't see Jack for most of Wednesday. He's at some bar somewhere watching the World Cup while Brian lounges at his house, enjoying a couple hours to himself with his cat and Jack's dog his only company. He reads, he scrolls around the internet a bit, he even naps a little, Jack's dog causing his cat to not come up and chew on his beard like the goofball almost always does otherwise. He's still sprawled out on the couch, yawning and stretching a bit, when the door opens slowly. He'd read earlier that England's lost so he wonders what state of mind Jack will be in as he slowly circles his hips to push himself up off of the couch to greet him.  
  
He's barely laid eyes on him, however, when Jack is pointing at him, a petulant look in his dark eyes. "Not you too, don't even say it, Brian." When Brian looks completely confused, Jack wavers, seeming more than a little buzzed. "Everyone talking about England like they're losers-- they're not, they made it so far... it's not... a loss, it's just a setback." He's mumbling to himself, fumbling with his keys, and Brian steps forward, rests a hand over Jack's, easing the clacking steel out of his hands. "It's going to be fine. We'll rebound like we always do."  
  
"Of course," Brian says, thinking that this moment explains a lot more than just some sports thing-- had explained them since they had begun tagging together. Losses, his facial injury thanks to Hideo Itami, none of it had kept them apart. They'd kept falling together, growing as a team, becoming more comfortable with each other. Jack's face is cool when he touches it, their eyes locking together. "I'd never think of England  as a loser." His smile is soft, impish. "I honestly like the place. It's brought me some of my favorite things over the years." His finger ghosts over Jack's lips and the change is instantaneous, his expression sharpening, pale skin flushing a bit. "So since we agree that England is definitely not  a loser," he says, leaning closer, letting Jack feel his warmth as he presses against him, "what do you say we celebrate their making it to the semi-finals?"  
  
Jack's lips twitch. "What do you have in mind?"   
  
Brian makes a face like he's deep in thought, his hand easing between them and brushing against Jack. "I have a lot of things in mind, but this is a start I guess," he muses, putting more pressure and watching as Jack's eyes darken.  
  
"Not in these slacks," he says, and Brian shrugs, moving away.  
  
"Take 'em off then," he says lazily, pretending not to be watching as Jack huffs out a sigh, the swish of fabric obvious as he takes them off and fussily folds them, laying them on a nearby chair before his shirt follows, moving to follow Brian into the living room.  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Here," Brian says with the ease of a man who's done this a few times before. Jack rolls his eyes but settles down next to him, exhaling as Brian smiles at him, his entire face lighting up with it. When Brian reaches over and kisses him, Jack hums into his mouth and slowly arches against him, deciding just to accept this for once. Cleaning the couch up is easy enough, anyway. He sighs as Brian toys with his undershirt. "Jack," he mumbles, working his hand down into his boxer briefs and stroking him a few times, quickly finding a rhythm that leaves Jack moaning into his mouth, Brian eagerly swallowing each down with the kind of glee that only working those noises out of him could bring him. "Sounds so good," he groans.  
  
Jack whimpers and thrusts up into Brian's hand, his head spinning as Brian eases him down against the couch and works his pants off, slowly licking his hand before going back to work, enjoying how he throbs and twitches in his hand. "Not going to last long," Jack moans, digging his toes into the couch cushions. "Brian-- Br... Brian--" Brian kisses him, dividing Jack's focus as he presses in with his thumb and smears some of the precome around, Jack gasping into his mouth as the warm slick pressure spreads lower, Brian using that to make the glide of his strokes easier.  
  
Before he can see Jack to his climax, Jack suddenly pulls away with a sharp jerk. "No," he gasps out, forcing himself to sit up. "We both-- I want you to feel this too." He starts to work on Brian's clothes, brushing his unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders, and then working on his pants. "Of course you're going commando," Jack laughs breathlessly, still flushed, still close, even as he finishes undressing Brian. Brian frowns but pulls up, letting him take them off.   
  
"Jack--" he tries, but Jack ignores him, straddling him with his arms lacing around his neck. Brian sighs and braces him, watching as Jack slowly begins to rut against him. "Whoa," he grunts as his body begins to react immediately, hardening against Jack's thigh. They kiss and Brian keens quietly, Jack rolling his hips in a way that leaves Brian flushed and hot. "Jack--"  
  
"Mm hmm," Jack hums, tangling his fingers in Brian's long hair and tugging his head back, scraping his teeth down his throat, biting into his neck. Brian jerks and groans roughly before thrusting up into Jack, both of them exhaling at the growing pressure between them, their hips rolling against each other only adding to the friction. "Brian-- Brian..."  
  
"Close," he breathes out. "So close..." Brian grips his jaw and tugs him back up, kissing him hard as he puts all of his strength into rutting into him, forcing out a laugh as Jack's face goes blank and he tenses, climaxing so sharply that he presses into Brian and sends him over as well, the two of them gasping for breath as they lean against each other. "Damn," Brian breathes out as Jack laughs wearily into his chest.  
  
"That was definitely a celebration deserving of a World Cup win," he mumbles.   
  
Brian chuckles and strokes his thumb over Jack's mustache, sighing as they struggle to regroup, pulling away from each other only long enough to get up from the couch and collect their scattered clothing, exchanging smirks as they meet back up in the middle of the room. "Wanna continue this in the bathroom?"   
  
"Yes," Jack agrees. "I definitely need to clean up."  
  
"Yeah, we'll absolutely be doing that," Brian chuckles, following him down the hall with a pleased smile on his face.


End file.
